Peace in War
by A-GIRL-NAMED-BILLY
Summary: "Peace in War" a song by the German band Madsen, as if it applied to Cato and Clove.


AN: I don't usually do ANs at the beginning because I like to get right to the story, but I just wanted to say hey real quick. I hope you haven't forgotten me in the last 10 months or so. I'm very sorry I've been on so infrequently. While I was posting last summer I already had probably a third of what I wanted to post written out but I had a major computer catastrophe and I lost it all and have had to retype it. I promise I haven't abandoned these stories forever. I've got a couple songfics (in progress and completed), but what I'm most excited about are the two longer stories: the AE to The Conspiracy as well as the slightly shorter pre-Hunger-Games Cato/Clove/Caleb all as friends and little kids in District 2. I think that'll be what goes up first because the story will fit together better that way.

Anyway, hello, here's the translation of a story I wrote originally in German. This is a really wonderful song by a band called Madsen. "Frieden im Krieg."

I'll post again soon :)

Peace in War

_You go your way _

_And I go my way._

_You don't know that I exist_

_And I don't know you._

We've actually never spoken, but now we'll have to talk. Undeniably. We'll be so close to each other for the rest of her life that we will talk, guaranteed.

I wish I had spoken to her earlier. I don't know why but I want to know who she is, which, of course, is unusual. Why should I want to know anything at all about her if I might have to kill her anyway? I can't explain it to myself and I would never admit it if I were asked, but I want to get to know her over the next five days.

_You live in your world_

_And I live in my world._

_A friendship between us_

_Would actually be impossible._

She doesn't pay much attention to me. I know that she notices my weaknesses and mistakes but I doubt she knows my name. We are exactly as we were at the reaping. Why should anything change? Why should we become friends? Become friends? Since when do I want to become friends? I wanted to get to know her. Yes. That's working. What have I learned about her?

She drinks only wanter, exactly as in District 2.  
She's not interested in the Capitol food.

She hates the clothes here, is excited for the arena because she'll get almost normal clothing. Probably.

She throws knives like nobody else, hits her mark every time.

My heart beats like it never has before when I look at her.

I don't like how the guy from 1 looks at her.

Shit.

How am I supposed to kill her?

_Sometimes it happens_

_That the truth lies to us._

_Sometimes we meet each other_

_And make peace in war._

But in the arena something does change. She sleeps next to me, eventually on my chest with it gets really cold. She looks at me, only me, not the guy from 1. She smiles, laughs. At the beginning she kills just like the others, but later I see in her face that it wasn't without regret. She's not as stupid as the other and me. She knows what she's done.

_Sometimes it happens_

_That the truth lies to us._

No. This can't have happened. My eyes, my burning eyes, are lying. She can't be lying there on the ground, senseless and weak. "Clove," I say as I kneel beside her. "Clove, please..." Tears. Tears? Tears from my eyes. Never. But now. "Clove, please!" I grit my teeth. Hopefully no one will notice. "Stay with me."

But she can't. Her eyes are unfocused. She doesn't recognize me. "Clove?" She says nothing. She just lays on the ground and she cries too, but for a different reason than me. Physical, not emotional pain.

_Sometimes we meet each other_

_And make peace in war._

"Clove?" I repeat her name and my voice breaks. "Don't leave me." But she can't do anything against it. And I can't do anything against it. I would have had to be here earlier to save her. "I'm sorry."

Her hand, so much smaller than mine but earlier just as sure, finds mine and holds it tight. Just for a moment. My district partner, my friend, my Clove dies in my arms. Then I hear her cannon.

_At a place that does not exist_

_We will touch each other._

_We go against every principle_

_And make peace in war._

Five days later I die too. But it isn't so bad. I know that I'm not alive anymore, but somehow I stand up. I am home. That is, I'm in District 2, in the mountains. Clove stands there and looks at me. No. Smiles at me, friendly and happy as I've never seen her. But then she understands what it means that I'm here. "What happened?" she asks.

"I missed you," I answer. It's half a joke. I wanted to go home, despite the pain, but apparently that wasn't what the Gamemakers wanted.

"Stupid boy," she says, annoyed, "You should have gone home, whether you missed me or not."

"I tried," I explain, but I don't want to tell her everything, "But it...it didn't work out."

"So I've noticed. You're here. You're dead."

"Yes."

"It's good to see you again," she says.

"You too," I answer. I should be confused, but I'm not. I'm just happy.

"Come here." And I go, simply, as if there's nothing else I could do, and hug her.

. . .

AN again: I don't know why but I feel this necessary to say. I don't usually write about the afterlife. I just find it a tough subject because everybody has their own opinion of what it's like. In this story it can be whatever you want. "At a place that doesn't exist" can mean whatever you want. At a place that doesn't exist on earth (maybe it's heaven or hell), at a place that only exists in Cato's head (maybe he imagines this conversation and it helps him not completely go to pieces as he dies), at a place that doesn't exist at all (maybe I'm wrong and the conversation never happens ever). Whatever makes you happy or confuses you most, gives you something to think about.

Disclaimer: "The Hunger Games" belongs to Suzanne Collins. "Peace in War"/"Frieden im Krieg" belongs to Madsen. Your interpretations of this story belong to you.

A note on the translation:

So this was originally written in German. I didn't use any idioms that won't come across in English so it's just a word for word translation. However, the song is prettier in German. I didn't translate it very poetically because I wanted to use the words they use. Maybe I'm not supposed to do that. Maybe I should have taken more poetic liberty. I'm new at this translating thing. Let me know what you think (about the translation and of course about the story itself :) ). Again, thank you to LizCaine for editing the German and giving me the guts to publish it. I'm terribly self-conscious about being wrong when I'm writing in German, so thanks again for your help, Liz. :)


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